Stay at Home

August
25, 1849
Dear Husband,
What a long summer. O!! how I want to see you. Sometimes I almost imagine
myself with you, but alas it is only the dream of fancy.... O! William,
if I could see you this morning, I would hug and kiss you till you would
blush. Sabrina

Beyond the North Platte, William Swain and the other Forty-niners in his company endured fifty miles of treeless sagebrush dotted with pools of alkaline water fatal to oxen.

Wagons and carts were scattered on all sides, and the stench of dead and decaying cattle actually rendered the air sickening. Some idea can be drawn from the fact that in one spot could be seen 150 dead creatures.
William Swain

On July 31st, they crossed the Continental Divide at South Pass. They were now through the Rockies, more than halfway to California. But the hardest part -- the deserts and the Sierra Nevadas -- still lay ahead.

Everyone
on the trail that summer had heard the story of an earlier wagon train
that had taken a supposed shortcut called "Hastings Cutoff," only to be
trapped in the Sierras near Truckee Lake. Half of the emigrants had died;
some of the others had survived by eating the flesh of their dead companions.
They were remembered as the Donner Party.

William Swain and the others were late too and they knew it. Snow would soon begin to fall in the mountains. They also began to follow short-cuts that seemed likely to speed them through to the goldfields. Sublette's Cut-Off. Hudspeth's Cut-Off. And in the western Nevada desert, Lassen's Cut-Off.

"You
had heard by the grape vine that there is desert, there's death, there's
desolation, there's horror, ahead. Everybody thinks they want to go due
West. Lassen's cut-off presumably leads you due West, across the desert,
over the Northern end of the Sierra Nevada, and down into the warmth and
the rewards of the Sacramento Valley.

So at the point where you make the choice, there is this moment where scores of men stand around, and they debate and they argue and they discuss and they read little signs on the road. And a barrel, a big barrel, full of cards and full of information. You sift through it: 'Oh, George went this way, Sam went this way, Louie went that way. What am I going to do?' There's choices being made. And they stand around and they debate, and sometimes companies'd argue and they split, and there'd be fights, and We'll go this way and We'll go that way. So it was a life-and-death choice, everybody knew it to be that. Wasn't just some casual matter of saving a few hours, it might save your life.
J. S. Holliday

On September 21st, William Swain and the Wolverine Rangers joined the stream of 10,000 gold-seekers and started down Lassens Cut-Off. It, too, would prove a mistake.

They first had to struggle across the searing Black Rock Desert, traveling by night, to save their oxen. Then, they had to face the mountains. The roads were made up of almost equal parts mud and boulders. Wagons broke down. The Wolverine Rangers agreed to split up into small groups. It would now be every man for himself.

November 6, 1849
We commenced, our way in ten inches of snow. I carried a change of underclothes, both of flannel and of cotton, two pairs of socks, one coat, one pants, one neck handkerchief, my journal, pocket Bible, pocketbook and a few day's provisions.... The storm increased as the day advanced.
William Swain

"But when you get to the other side of the Sierra Nevada, you don't see the green of the Sacramento Valley, you see the desolation of the Pitt River Valley. You see rocks and stunted growth, and mountain deserts. It's just, it's just a pain, it's a shock, it's a hit in the head, it hurts your heart to see what still lies ahead. And you haven't gone a short cut. What you've done is you've gone north, and you're at what's called Goose Lake. So instead of going west, you've gone north-northwest. Now you've got to go south.
J. S. Holliday

At dawn we arrived at Antelope Creek, eight miles from Lassen's Ranch, and found it not fordable. The sky cleared. We kindled a rousing fire, dried and rested ourselves till noon when two other men and myself -- with our clothes lashed to our shoulders -- forded the stream.... It was the hardest job I ever had. When I stepped onto the opposite shore I thought my flesh would drop from my bones.

William Swain had finally made it to California.

January
6, 1850
Dear George,
There was some talk between us of your coming to this country. For God's
sake think not of it. Tell all whom you know that thousands have laid
and will lay their bones along the routes to and in this country... and
as for you, STAY AT HOME, for if my health is spared, I can get enough
for both of us. William Swain